I wish I could love you like you want me to
by Shizuka Misaki
Summary: Klavier shows his love to Apollo, who reacts very badly–but its not as if he could help it. (WARNING. Contains mention of non-con/rape, but no description of said non con/rape. DISCLAIMER. This story's main focus is asexuality. Not everyone who is asexual reacts the way to sexual advances/activities as mentioned in the story. I apologize if this offends any asexual people.)
1. Incident

Apollo had been working. He had been very concentrated. He had been ready to finish the paperwork that had been slowly but surely growing in the left corner of his desk for the better of two weeks. Had.

He'd been doing all of these things until he heard a faint knock on the door of the Anything Agency. He promtly ignored it, 'its almost 9 o clock, whos knocking at this time?' he thought, but was rewarded with a loud yell. "Herr Forehead open up!"

The now definitely not concentrated man got up from his desk with an audible groan and navigated his way through various magical trinkets to the door. "Yes, Prosecutor Gavin?"

The man opposite of Apollo, as expected, was Klavier Gavin– six feet of well-proportioned tan-ness (weren't Europeans supposed to be pale?) , topped off with a silly, twirly braid. Apollo, being an unflattering five-foot-seven, had to bend his neck considerably (embarassingly) to make eye contact with his courtroom rival and friend. The latter of the two looked over the former's short head into the Agency. "Mind if I come in?"

"Yes, actually," Apollo huffed. "I'm working, and its almost, no–" he checked his phone–"just past nine. This is not the time to randomly drop by."

"I am aware of the time, Herr Forehead," Klavier said. "And this isnt a random drop-by. I texted you." Apollo turned on his phone again to realize that what his visitor said was true. "So you did," he said, then frowned. "Wait. How and why do you know my number?" "I asked the detective frau for it for, ach," the glimmerous fop paused. "For emergencies. Ja." Apollo's bracelet tightened slightly about his wrist, but its owner hardly needed it to tell that the European was lying.

Apollo glared at his friend, squinted his eyes, and tried to send him a telepathic message. "PLEASE. LEAVE. PLEASE. LE-"

His attempt at telepathy was interrupted by the supposed recipient putting his hands on his hips and pressing his face a mere foot from Apollo's. "Please, Herr Forehead? I just want to talk to you for einen zweite!"

"Fine," Apollo muttered. "Fine, fine. Fine. I'm fine. Fine." He almost tripped over his own bare feet as he made his way to the couch. Klavier followed, shutting the door behind him.

"So," Apollo grabbed his coffee off of a pile of miscellaneous whatevers stacked upon what was probably a table and took a sip. "What do you want?" Klavier, somewhat shocked at how his friend could drink coffee at nine in the evening, paused a few seconds before responding. "Ach," he pointed to a space beside Apollo. "Do you mind?" Without waiting for an answer, he plopped almost not-socially-acceptably close to the coffee-drinking boy. He then simply stared at Apollo. The latter leaned slightly away, his uncomfort being heightened by the...thing shining in Klavier's eyes. He didn't know what it was, which scared him even more.

"Er, Prosecutor Gavin?" he asked, setting down his coffee cup.

"I don't know how to say this Herr Forehead," Klavier laughed nervously. "Let me just...ja, let me show you." He pushed a strand of hair out of his face, grabbed Apollo's skinny wrists, and leaned forward.

The younger attorney tried to pull his hands away. "Prosecutor Gavin, please let go of–mmmmnnm!" His open lips were met softly with Klavier's, the blond's tongue flicking inside the mouth of his captor. Klavier pushed heaping amounts of passion into the kiss, hoping to draw out a significant reaction from the other man.

He got a significant reaction, if the complete opposite of what he wanted.

Apollo flailed wildly, his arms breaking free and proceeding to hit the kisser painfully. He slammed his mouth closed, teeth narrowly missing Klavier's tongue. His eyes began to fill with fear and tears. (Mind you, this all happened in less than a few seconds.)

Their faces jerked apart, Klavier looking quite hurt (understandably). Apollo rushed to the bathroom covering his mouth with one hand and the other smoothing back his antennae as bile sneaked up his throat. He got to the toilet just as the sick burst from his lips into the bowl. He kneeled up to the toilet, retching over and over, sobs mixing with vomit as his throat became raw.

"Apollo, oh mein gott, Apollo, I'm so sorry, are you alright? I'm so sorry, oh mein gott, oh mein GOTT," Klavier arrived in the doorway with a glass of water, offering it to the ill man. When the boy stopped vomiting, he took it gratefully, but Klavier was careful not to touch Apollo's fingers.

"Thank you," Apollo murmured. "I'm fine, now." He took a cautious sip of the water, closing his brown eyes as more tears unconsciously slipped out over his pale cheeks. He resumed his position over the toilet.

"I'm so sorry, I just wanted to say I love you but I wouldn't have if I had known you were so disgusted by me. I'm so sorry," Klavier rambled on, slipping in random, sad-sounding German jargon. "I called your sister and her father, they should be here any minute now–"

"'Pollo?" Phoenix called as he opened the door. "Apollo, is everything okay?" Quick, heavy footsteps followed by lighter, quieter ones found their way down the hall. "Polly! Again?" Trucy exclaimed, pushing past the depressed German man to hug Apollo. "We are lucky you came to help our Apollo," Phoenix turned to Klavier, a somewhat apologetic expression on his face. "This kind of happens a lot. But would you please tell us exactly what happened?"

Klavier stopped looking helplessly at Apollo to stare stiffly at Phoenix. "Herr Wright, I am so, so sorry. And I would not question you if you did not allow me to approach your, ach, son outside of court." And with that, he exited the bathroom.

"Mr Gavin," Phoenix cried, chasing after him. "I doubt this by any means is your fault!" Apollo got up from his kneeling position, pushing his sister to the floor (who had been soothingly rubbing his back as he leaned over the toilet).

"Prosecu–KLAVIER!" His Chords of Steel, though quite raspy, seemed to still be in working order. "Come ba–"

Apollo visibly wilted as he heard the Wright Anything Agency door slam closed.


	2. Bridge

Apollo called 46 times and sent 381 texts to Klavier over a span of a week. None were returned.

Apollo had been depressed, to say the least. He'd denied it every time his sister or her father had asked, but it wasn't that hard to figure out. He was mopey, hardly left the office or his apartment, and didn't bother putting up his hair. (That last one was what mostly gave it away.)

Eventually, something had to be done about it. Phoenix was worried for his kind of son, and knew Klavier and Apollo would continue to blame themselves for the others actions if they were not stopped from doing so.

Thus, he came up with a plan.

It was the eighth day afterwards. Apollo, still in his pajamas (well, it really just was his underwear, but pajamas counts too), had been thinking of what had occured a week ago. He tried calling Klavier twice, but to nobody's surprise, he got voicemail. Sometime after that, he got up to make cereal, but just looked at it sadly before dumping it down the drain. He resumed his moping under the scratchy covers of his bed.

He did absolutely nothing for about three hours until he finally decided to get dressed and make his way to the Agency.

As he was pulling his pants on, his cell phone rang obnoxiously. "Apollo Justice, speaking."

"Hey, yeah, Apollo!" It was Phoenix. "Yeah, er, could you possibly go to that coffee shop a little ways from your apartment? You know, the one on the backside of the courthouse."

"What for?" Apollo tucked his cell between his shoulder and ear, as he needed both of his hands to do up his pants.

"My husba–" the caller cleared his throat. "That is to say, Miles Edgeworth asked me to meet him there," Phoenix explained, "but it's a little out of the way, and I'm really busy. He just wanted to give me some papers. Can you pick them up for me?"

"Yea, I guess."

"Thanks, Apollo. See you in a little bit."


	3. Climax

Apollo waited for twenty minutes before giving up and leaving the small coffee joint.

Pushing open the door he ran into one Klavier Gavin. "Sorry," he murmured before looking up. "Ah."

"Hallo, Apollo," Klavier said with obviously fake cheer. "How are y–"

Apollo turned around and walked back into the shop. "Can we talk about it please?" Klavier hesitated before replying.

"I can't; I'm meeting with Herr Wright."

"He won't come."

"What do you mean?"

"He told me to come here to meet with Edgeworth because he was too busy to meet him himself. Neither showed."

"Ach."

"Please," Apollo pulled his best puppy dog eyes. Klavier gave in eventually. "Fine."

They sat down in a corner booth, sitting across from each other. Klavier drummed his fingers on tthe side of his macchiato apprehensively. (Apollo noted that this was not one of his usual nervous gestures, then thought better of it and sent the thought away because he figured it would hardly ever be deemed useful.)

"So," they said at the same time, neither choosing to look at each other's eyes. Apollo frowned at the cliche.

Moments passed, silent only to them as the rest of the shop continued in its typical chit-chattery state.

"I'm very sorry," they said in unison once again. Apollo could have sworn that this dialogue was written by a sixteen-year-old romance-freak on a fanfiction website; that's how cliche is was.

Klavier spoke first. "I truly am sorry. I should not have invaded your personal space like that, especially in a...er, sexual way. If I had known you would have reacted that way, I would never have done it. I acted very rashly, and I apologize." He scooted out of the booth and was about to stand up and leave when Apollo grabbed his sleeve. "Wait.

"I've had...boyfriends. A few girls, yes, but mostly boys. I dated Clay, you know, for two years in high school. He kissed me on the cheek, and it was okay–well, I didn't freak out, at least–so I thought when we actually kissed it would be fine. It wasn't. It felt gross and I hated it. He wasn't a bad kisser, I don't think, but I was disgusted. We broke up soon after. I guess it's really rude and horrible to say you were glad you broke up with someone when they're dead, but I am because being friends with him was way better than being boyfriends. You know?"

Klavier sat back down at his side of the table. Apollo paused to take a deep breath and close his eyes. He didn't open them as he kept talking.

"And so after that, when I dated other people who didn't even wait until I was ready like Clay did to kiss me, no relationship lasted for more than a month. And this one guy...I broke up with him before anything even happened. We were together two, three weeks, tops. I broke up with him, not because he made me uncomfortable, but because he was an asshole. Once, we went to a really nice Italian place and he told me he was paying but he didn't and made me spend a hundred bucks on his stupid fucking lasagna."

Klavier knew that when Apollo cussed, which had happened only rarely in times before, he was really angry. Really, really angry.

"And I broke up with him at the Italian place. Except then he grabbed me and shoved me into his car and he drove and drove and it took me forever to realize that he weren't driving to my place; we were driving to his.

"When we got out of the car I asked him where the hell we were and he said to come inside and I did because I was stupid and eighteen. He slammed me up against the door and kissed me so hard I bled on my lips. He shoved his hand down my pants and I yelled at him not to touch me and I tried to open the door but he punched me in the jaw."

Apollo's eyes were still squeezed shut in an attempt to hide his tears from Klavier and the rest of the coffee shop.

"After that, I let him do whatever he wanted with me. I didn't want him to punch me again, hurt me more than he already did. It stung to bad. I passed out more than once, I think. And he drove me home, being the nicest goddamn gentleman in the world and all. And I limped out of the car and my red pants masked the blood and he said to me, 'You know, baby, you're lucky. You're fat and ugly and I still wanted to fuck you. That's a compliment, you know. You should be thankful that there's a person in this world that would be so considerate.' And you know the worst part? I actually said 'thank you'. I did. I said thanks to a rapist that called me fat and ugly. I'm a hundred and sixteen pounds, and I thanked a rapist who called me fat. I had to get stitches at the hospital the next day."

Apollo's voice became more and more stained as he went on. He choked back sobs rising in his throat.

"I'm so sorry. I love you Klavier, I swear to God I do. But I can hardly even talk about romance without freaking out and I want to love you the way everyone else thinks love should be but i can't and I'm sorry."

Klavier's heart stopped as his gaze fell on a single tear that had escaped from Apollo's left eye. He stood up suddenly and put a tanned hand in front of Apollo's face. "Herr Forehead," he said gently. "Would you like to hold my hand?"

Apollo opened his watery eyes and stared at the hand for a moment. He let out a sad, reluctant nod, and let his hand drop into Klavier's. The German squeezed it reassuringly, pulled Apollo out of the booth, and they left the coffee shop.

Fin.

(I hope you enjoyed. I am very sorry it took so long to write put up this last chapter. Please note that while I do have multiple true stories on asexuality, this is a work of pure fiction and bears no truth in events and even as the writer, I do not believe it to be canon [as far as I'm concerned, my OTPs have sex like rabbits in heat]. Other thing: I will be making and account on Archive Of Our Own, as I find the format to be personally easier to use. Don't worry, I will still post all of my stories and such on Fanfiction . com. Lastly, all kinds of feedback are very, very welcome, and Thanks for reading and be prepared for more stories in the future.)


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